


Rights and Monsters

by tigereyes45



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot, Random & Short, Short One Shot, talks of war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45/pseuds/tigereyes45
Summary: Dimitri sees himself as a monster. What is Byleth supposed to do? Does it even matter as they stand in a blood-stained street?
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 13





	Rights and Monsters

They stand alone in a street of cobbled stone. Grey, and browns were now staining red from blood underfoot of their flesh covered boots. Dimitri stares vacantly down the street. Out at all the houses, now boarded up, or burning. Homes for civilians once. Before their army destroyed them all. Byleth frowns at the sight. Not because she felt any particular way, but once upon a time this sight would have upset Dimitri. No point in dwelling on used to bes.

"You were right!"

Byleth stops mid-step. All the world grows cold around them. Apparently it still bothers him. The sights of war.

"I can tell by that look in your eyes, you're trying to remember which time." That same hollow, mad laugh escapes Dimitri. "When you once talked to me about the realities of war. When we ended Lonato's little up rise. Clouds cover so many memories of that time, but those civilians, Lonato's face remain clear." So focused on his faults that he can't even see her mind was in no such place.

"That was the reality of war. It is just as true now as it had been back then. Do you think these fools were always soldiers? No, for everyone starts off as a child. A pawn. They grow into civilian or something else. Something cruel. A monster."

How many times have they had a talk like this? It's on repeat. This chat. His thoughts. Those nightmares that haunt him. Coming again and again, never really leaving his head, except to perch on that ever growing chip on his shoulder. Byleth's all too familiar with those sorts of ghosts. They take the form of words she can never forget. Conversations always ready to replay at the slightest prod from her wandering mind. Sothis' last words never left her. They're scarred into her head. Printed along the flesh of lidded eyes. An echo. How many does Dimitri possess? She doubts even he could tell.

The conversation he's focusing on was right after Lonato's death. Ashe had run off to find his siblings. Catherine hovered nearby, listening, waiting. Pain still evident on her face. No blood on her hands. It was horrifying watching Ashe land the killing blow. He hadn't even been aiming to kill. Just to do enough damage to stop the man from raising his weapon. Too late he moved, and the arrow landed in one of those hardened greenish-blue eyes.

What that has to do with now was a mystery to her. Ashe wasn't throwing up in the grass. Dedue wasn't dragging the bodies off with Ingrid's help. They were alone, the last alive within this solitary city. A city once in the flame emperor's growing empire. One Dimitri ordered to be razed. Eldelgard's armies ready to move back in on them. Poised to attack and slay everything in their path. Just as they had done when they took this city. Perhaps that was the reason behind his sullen mood.

"There is more than one certainty of war."

This time Dimitri doesn't laugh. That cracked smile dissipates.

"Are they all so wicked? With such devastating tolls on the body that they threaten to tear your flesh asunder?"

Byleth wishes she could relate to those feelings of his. Dimitri's biggest flaw was how he feels so much. Those feelings he repressed for years bubbled over and broke his mind. Now they were bringing him back. Grounding the young ghost in this moment. There were better times for such thoughts. Better places then a bloodied street. Another brief glimpse at the clarity he used to have.

"No." Byleth lies, hoping that it's true. There must be at least one truth of war. One last glimmering hope that not everything they do is caked in blood. That the red from their enemies will not fall through every crack left of them, seeping deep into their bodies, and hardening just enough to splinter them apart from the insides. What would Dimitri do if it's a lie?

"You've been right every time so far." He concedes with a bow of his head. Byleth rests her fingers over his tight-fisted hand. Flexing on instinct it takes a moment for Dimitri to recognize the touch. How it's supposed to be comforting. She removes her hand. His body loses that tension immediately.

Should she tell them that these words are from her ghosts? Her father's guidance, Rhea's demands, Claude's semi-serious moments, things she had always hoped her mother would say. Lessons her life as a mercenary forced her to learn.

Byleth spent most of her life profiting off wars. Petty battles between squabbling nobles, and reckless bandits. She learned the lessons of war before she could write her own name. Jeralt over her shoulder, smiling sadly at the former. Laughing warmly at the latter.

Would Dimitri ever laugh freely again? Untouched by madness.

Dimitri doesn't move. So she leaves him there. Alone in the street with only his contemplation. Byleth can't help him figure this out. She can only offer so much. In the end, the choice is his.

A hand grasps her shoulder. Forcing her once again to take pause.

The former prince is hunched over. Crystalline blue eyes quaking. Unable to look at her, Dimitri stares at the base of a burning building. Was fire really so much easier to watch then herself? Did she burn him worst then any flames could?

"Dimitri?"

"Professor, promise me,"

She wants to ask what. Her non-beating heart is already promising whatever it is. His legs give in. Byleth catches him with steady arms. Their embrace wasn't warm. It's not the soft touch of lovers. Nor a quiet strength of family. This was something else. Byleth has no idea what it is, but the strangeness is welcoming.

Going against the hard lessons she has learned, Byleth leans in. Hoisting him back up onto his feet. Pressing her hands into his back, she hugs him.

"Anything," she swears, knowing it's another lie. She learned years ago that sometimes there are things out of her control. Still they don't stop her. Even though those lessons were the result of just as many words in her skin as they were in his.


End file.
